


if you're still bleeding you're the lucky ones

by mockturtletale



Series: the lucky ones [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2012-2013 NHL Lockout, Anger, Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Injury, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi, NHL Lockout, OKC FOREVER, Oklahoma City Barons, Other, Sexual Frustration, aggro!Nuge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockturtletale/pseuds/mockturtletale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ideally, Jordan would like it to be a slow and delicate process. All heartfelt conversation and coaxing makeouts, maybe a little romance because it's Ryan and he deserves to be wooed. But then Ryan gets started on his one man mission to be his own fight club, and all thoughts beyond keeping Ryan alive go very quickly straight to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for / wouldn't exist without fragilebones for a couple of reasons : firstly, because it was written with a thoroughly delightful post she made in mind, but most importantly because when I needed someone to take the multitude of feelings I have about this ship / these players / these teams and make sense of them, she stepped the fuck up. I am constantly grateful for her patience, and for the delightful, thoughtful, articulate and inspiring ways she finds to love all that she loves. 
> 
> Many many thanks to altri_uccelli, whose help with this was utterly vital to its completion. For many months now a_u has helped me hugely with the things she says and thinks, and the changes she offered in suggestion on this both polished up the important bits and gave me the much needed motivation to work on the rest. bestliars served up some serious fic-fu in terms of all the details that I wanted to make sure and acknowledge as deviations, and in what I will think of as a cosmic treat, alleviated all of my fears without my even having to say what those were. Infinite thanks for being able to meet my entirely unreasonable demands so thoroughly, and making me feel great about this before I'd even posted it!
> 
> annkiri also looked this over for me and helped me with a couple of issues that really benefited from the perspective she so kindly offered, so thank you for being there for me during my pre-posting freak out and here's to new friends! <3
> 
> As always, this is a work of fiction and thus does not reflect exact reality, but a specific list of the details I changed, fabricated or guessed are listed at the end. Title from a lovely song by Daughter.

Ryan is definitely a little rougher in practices, maybe even rougher in practices than he'd tended to be during games in Edmonton, but Jordan had kind of put that down to him coming to Oklahoma feeling like he needed to prove himself all over again. Jordan opts to just fit in instead, and prefers to do so by taking the team out to dinner and footing the bill, but Ryan has always got to do things the hard way. 

It’s shocking, the difference in Ryan’s game. Having played with him for almost a full season now Jordan has a feel for how Ryan plays and it’s not to throw hits every opportunity he gets. He’s never known Ryan to let a shove slide, but now Ryan is the one starting it and Jordan doesn’t really know what to make of that. 

Adjusting takes time, though. He's sure Ryan will settle down once they get a few games under their belt. 

And if not, Jordan calls dibs on getting to ice down Ryan's bruises. 

Not out loud or anything, but the look Jordan levels meaningfully around the locker room the first time Ryan gets naked in there gets the job done just as well. They’ve both got a lot of friends here, bonds that extend beyond leagues and teams, but Jordan and Ryan arrived together, they’ll leave together, and while they’re here Jordan will be the one to take care of Ryan, if he needs it, when he asks for it. 

 

\----

 

Aside from the niggling suspicion that Ryan’s brand new and not so much improved style of play isn’t just down to the discomfort of learning to be a part of a new team all over again, getting to play with him still is amazing, and it goes a long way toward making Jordan feel instantly at home, because leaving Taylor behind in Edmonton had sucked for all kinds of reasons. 

Jordan and Taylor are ... well, Jordan's never really quite sure what to call it. 

They eat all their meals together, but he wouldn't call it 'dating'. They live in the same apartment, and share a bed, but Taylor still refers to it as 'rooming together' and that sounds about right to Jordan. They're together, and Jordan definitely can't see that changing anytime soon, or like - _ever_ , but Taylor approaches this the only way he knows how to do things - with fierce, total commitment and the kind of natural, simple skill that makes it look easy, so Jordan tends to follow that lead and not ask for answers to questions that really don’t matter anyway. 

The ambiguity of what they are to one another, as it could look from an outsider’s perspective, had meant that there were some things they’d needed to talk about before Jordan left for Oklahoma, though. 

 

\----

 

"This is dumb, Taylor, you're gonna be down there too in like a month." 

Taylor shrugs. 

"Sure, hopefully. But what if I'm not?" 

They're still not completely certain what the situation with Taylor's contract is. His shoulder is totally healed up and he's already skating again, back at it without a hitch, but the lockout is hard enough to get a handle on without introducing injury waiver protocol into the mix. Everyone Jordan asks assures him that Taylor's transfer will just take a little more time to complete, but no one's word alone is good enough when it comes to Taylor, and Jordan is still fretting as he packs to leave Taylor here all by himself, even if he's putting up a good front to the contrary.

"That would suck. This already sucks. But it's not gonna happen. If you can't come down to us, we'll come back here to you. We can all practice with the Oil Kings. Once we're still active does it really matter?" 

Of course it matters. They need to play for the sake of their conditioning if not their sanity, and none of them are at a point in their careers where they can afford to stop working, but Taylor's coming to Oklahoma so it doesn't matter. It doesn't. 

"Yeah, Ebby, it matters. You're staying down there whether I get to come too or not. I’m not denying our co-dependence, but worst case scenario I’ll come to OKC and practice with you. I don’t have to be under contract to hang out with you guys. And who is this 'we'?" Taylor asks, smirking at Jordan as he stretches out across the bed next to Jordan's bags. "Are you gonna drag Nuge with you? The two of you gonna come racing back to keep poor ol' me company?" Taylor's smirk gets soft, and when he folds his arms back behind his head it's just like every other afternoon they've ever spent in here - Taylor teasing and Jordan trying to pretend that he's impervious to Taylor's many charms, which he obviously isn't, because no one is. 

It's a pleasant pretence, at least.

Jordan figures he's got about enough time to finish folding the stack of shirts he's halfway through before Taylor manages to entice him into doing something else. 

The question makes Jordan frown as he folds. 

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Leave him down there by himself?" 

Taylor laughs, tipping his head back against the sheets, and Jordan's folding picks up speed. 

"I know we joke around about him being a baby, but he's a grown man, Jordan. We're not his sitters, and he's not our responsibility." 

Jordan frowns harder, and stops folding all together, staring at Taylor instead. 

"You can't _keep_ him, Jordan," Taylor warns pre-emptively, and it's totally uncalled for because Jordan wasn't even going to ask. He was actually about to protest that he's kind of already theirs, but whatever, Taylor doesn't know that. 

"But he's our friend," Jordan wheedles instead, dragging the word out and letting it settle between them when he drops the shirt he'd been holding, pushes the rest of the pile onto the floor, and climbs onto the bed to crawl up over Taylor. 

Taylor grins and reaches for him, but Jordan just pins Taylor's hands to the bed and marvels at how Taylor lets him. 

"So? He's got friends in Oklahoma. Tubes will take him under his wing." 

That's a thought that Jordan would find frightening at the best of times, but it's really especially not the angle that he's looking for here. 

"That's different, though. Not like with us. He likes us best, doesn’t he?" 

Taylor pauses, looking up at Jordan like he's figuring him out - looking for something on Jordan's face instead of thinking about what he's said, because Taylor's instincts are never wrong when it comes to Jordan. 

Jordan wonders if he's made a mistake. If this is taking it too far. He tries to shut whatever look is on his face right now down, half-heartedly starts to try and launch a tactical retreat in every sense of the word, but Taylor twists in his grip and takes Jordan's wrists in hand, keeping him where he is. 

"Is that what this is about? Ryan?" 

Taylor sounds honestly curious, maybe a little surprised, but not at all upset, and Jordan figures maybe now really is as good a time as any to address this. 

"This is about you. And me. But what if it was about Ryan too?" 

Jordan stays still, because he's almost afraid that any movement will spook Taylor and break the moment, send this conversation skittering out around them in slices and shards. 

Taylor stills too, the soft movement of his breathing making his body rise and fall gently, three, four, five times inside the line of Jordan's thighs. 

The expression that dawns then, drawn bright across Taylor's face, is a kind of wicked delight that strikes pride hot through Jordan. They’ve got so many reasons to be proud of one another, and it’s easy to get caught up in those every time they have a mic in their face - to take what they’re saying for the benefit of others for granted. So Jordan relishes these moments - every single chance he gets to see Taylor be brave and confident about things that won’t lead to goals; decisions that can’t be weighed in points. 

"Seriously?" Taylor asks. "You're not just messing with me?" 

Jordan leans down to kiss Taylor because he doesn't know what else to do when Taylor is looking at him like that, but Taylor only answers it with the enthusiastic welcome of his tongue for a second before he's pulling away to repeat the question, looking up at Jordan wide-eyed and still smiling. 

"I'm always messing with you, Hallsy," Jordan says, tugging his hands out from under Taylor's grip and sliding them up along Taylor's shoulders, pausing to feel the way Taylor's swallow ripples in his throat when Jordan adds "but I wouldn't joke about this." 

"Wait, you're gonna share, right? This isn't going to be the weird, crappy kind of threeway with unnecessary divides, right?" Taylor is quick to clarify, like this is something that's happened to him before, mouth sour around the word 'divides' like he's still not over it. 

As if Jordan could ever leave him out of anything. 

"Well, we've still gotta like ... _ask Ryan_ , but the sharing is kind of my motivation here." 

"You want him for us," Taylor breathes, leaning up on his elbows to kiss Jordan before he can answer, and then rolling them over, getting Jordan snug in against his side and comfortable in his arms. 

"I think he could be a kind of perfect fit, you know?" Jordan murmurs into Taylor's shoulder, instantly committed to the cuddle-nap that Taylor is instigating here. Not that he'd turn down some more making out, first, (ever) but Taylor keeps sighing dreamily mid-kiss, and eventually he gently pushes Jordan away completely. 

"Are you thinking about making out with Ryan right now?" Jordan has to ask, but isn't sure he's ready to hear the answer, because he's not sure which side he comes down on in this debate. He knows which side he'd like to go down on, though, and that'd be both. 

"No," Taylor huffs, scooting down to rest his head on Jordan's chest, "I'm thinking about _you_ making out with Ryan." 

Jordan falls asleep with his bags half-packed and wakes up with Taylor drooling against his throat, but he thinks about how one day he might get to wake up with Ryan drooling on him too, and that's the kind of long-term goal Jordan can work with. 

 

\----

 

They hadn't talked about it in terms of specifics before Ryan and Jordan had to leave, but the hug goodbye Ryan got from Taylor was so far beyond 'handsy' Jordan remains confident that they're still on the same page, here. 

 

Now all they have to do is read Ryan in. 

 

\----

 

Ideally, Jordan would like it to be a slow and delicate process. 

All heartfelt conversation and coaxing makeouts, maybe a little romance because it's Ryan and he deserves to be wooed. 

Jordan's got all kinds of moves, and big gestures to boot. He’s romantic as fuck when he falls for someone hard enough to not know how to put it into words, and Ryan makes him forget that he ever knew the English language at all. 

Jordan is prepped and ready - determined to do this right. 

But then Ryan gets started on his one man mission to be his own fight club, and all thoughts beyond keeping Ryan alive go very quickly straight to hell. 

 

\-----

 

It doesn't end at practice. It doesn't stop when everyone on the team has accepted and welcomed him, even if they're all a little wary of him still, flinching from his high fives and handshakes in a way that Jordan would really love to capture on video for Taylor.  
It's not like Ryan is getting into fights all of a sudden, but Jordan starts to worry that that's just a matter of time and determination. 

Ryan is _mouthy_ , now. He wasn’t ever completely silent in Edmonton, but Ryan doesn't just respond to chirps down in OKC - he initiates them. He's running his mouth left, right, and center, shouting creative threats and vague obscenities at guys who dare to so much as look at him in a way he doesn't like. He's pushing and shoving out there, revelling in the muscle he's built up over the off season, arguing with refs and making the kind of promises that would be funny coming from anyone else, but are downright terrifying coming from Ryan. Maybe not this period, and maybe not tonight, but before his stint in OKC ends Ryan is going to score two hat tricks against the Rampage, and they'd better believe that, because Jordan does and Jordan would know. 

When they come off the power play Jordan pulls his helmet off and drops it between his knees, squirting water in what is hopefully the direction of his mouth but turning to look at Ryan while he does it. 

Ryan is eagerly eyeing the game, his mouthguard and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and held tight, his knees bouncing with pent up energy and his whole face glistening with sweat, jaw clenched with murderous intent. 

"You're not going to start a line brawl, are you?" Jordan has to ask, because he's really not a fighter but he'd at least like to know in advance if he's going to be getting punched. 

Ryan grins sharp and feral and squirts water over his face, wiping his bangs off his forehead and spitting at the ground like it has personally wronged him. Jordan absolutely does not find himself thinking about how he'd maybe like to see Ryan get into a fight after all. 

"Nah, that's not going to win us this game." 

"So what's with the tough man thing. Do you miss Hordi that much?" 

Ryan still hasn't turned to look at Jordan, his focus never leaving the game. His knees are bouncing even harder now, and he's going to split his own lip if he keeps chewing his mouthguard so hard. 

Jordan drops a glove and reaches over to knock it out of Ryan's mouth. 

That gets his attention. 

Ryan blinks at Jordan like he's just woken up in the middle of this conversation, and Jordan wants to take Ryan’s face in his hands and kiss him so badly it genuinely pains him for a second, because it's hardly the first time or a brand new instinct. 

Jordan hands the mouthguard back and elbows Ryan in the side, instead. 

"Quit it. You need to calm down. You're not keeping me up all night again tonight." 

Ryan almost pouts, but after the interruption Mags serves by nudging them further up the bench, he nods at Jordan instead and thankfully doesn't try to argue. 

He spends the rest of the game chirping up a storm and getting into it with guys right off the dot, but he makes an effort not to be so obvious about it when Jordan isn't distracted, and they win the game with a goal and two assists between them, so Jordan will take his victories where he can get them. 

 

\----

 

They're rooming together in OKC, but this really is mere rooming together. 

Ryan's bedroom is five feet from Jordan's, and Maggie and Anton live upstairs from them again, so it would basically be the perfect set up were it not for Taylor's obvious and awful absence. 

And Ryan's rage tantrums. 

When he isn't trawling for penalty minutes during games he's stalking around the apartment waiting for opportunities to lose it. He bangs cupboard doors so hard it feels like the whole apartment shakes. He twists the dial in the shower so violently one afternoon that it breaks off in his hand and it takes he and Jordan two hours to get it back on. One evening Jordan is lying on the couch talking quietly to Taylor on the phone while Ryan watches TV, and when the clicker stops working Ryan throws it to the floor instead of doing the reasonable thing like check the batteries or something.

The first day Maggie and Anton come over to hang out before practice is the worst.

They’re sitting around playing video games and Jordan is so close to beating Anton for the first time all afternoon that he’s only half paying attention to what Ryan and Mags are even saying, but he thinks he hears Mags ask if Ryan is going to move into Schultzy’s place just before the glass Ryan had been holding literally shatters in his hand. Because Ryan gripped it tight enough for it to smash. He gets a couple tiny cuts for his trouble, but at least Jordan doesn’t have to pick any shards of glass out of his hands. Jordan has taken to keeping the first aid kit close, because it seems inevitable that Ryan is going to do some damage eventually.

Ryan isn’t even making it through the night unscathed, at this point. 

Almost every night since they moved in, Ryan's been having trouble sleeping. Jordan will get out of bed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and they've both got an en suite so he has to go and get glasses of water he doesn't need simply to have an excuse to check in on Ryan. Most nights now he finds him still up, sitting in bed reading or watching tv or playing with his phone, but sometimes he won't be there at all and Jordan will go back to bed and toss and turn until he hears Ryan let himself back into the apartment. 

When Jordan asks, Ryan says he's been going to the gym that's in their building. Jordan almost wishes he couldn't believe Ryan, but unfortunately he can. As can anyone who has seen the change in Ryan's body lately. 

He hasn't just built up muscle, there's a different kind of strength to his body now. A thick whip of tension that helps them out on the ice but seems to vibrate right through him at home, leaving him rigid and without the right focus in a way that seems to agitate him, palpable even to Jordan. 

The only time he seems at all relaxed is when he lets himself back in after his gym sessions. Then he’s exhausted and sweating and worn still, it seems. It’s almost like he can’t sit still until he doesn’t have the energy to do much else, and Jordan doesn’t think it’s just a case of needing to prove himself to this team. Not anymore. 

 

\----

 

Jordan brings it up with Taylor during their next Skype date, and Taylor is, predictably, no help at all. 

"Maybe he's finally going through puberty?" 

"Said the dude healthily invested in hitting that," Jordan admonishes, and Taylor grins. 

"Second puberty! The hockey player one! When a rookie becomes a man!" 

"That's not a thing," Ryan chides from the doorway, and Jordan startles so hard he nearly spills his bowl of cereal all over his laptop. 

"Jesus christ, announce yourself," Jordan says, reaching to put his bowl on his bedside table and scooting up to sit back against the pillows, patting the bed beside him until Ryan rolls his eyes and sits next to him. 

“Want me to wear a bell?” Ryan asks, settling in, and he holds his chided, penitent expression for long enough that Jordan’s breath locks up in his chest until Ryan cracks a grin at him and reaches across Jordan to angle the laptop so they can both see. 

“So who are we gossiping about?” 

"Ryyyyaaaaan hey! Hey Ryan!" Taylor enthuses, easily sidestepping Ryan’s question and Jordan _misses_ him. 

That's maybe not so much the case for Ryan. 

"We face-timed like three hours ago. You made me listen to you take a piss," he reminds Taylor. 

"Did I, Ryan? Did I? Did you really have no choice in the matter?" 

Jordan lets them bicker, happy to sit there and chase Froot Loops with his spoon with Ryan warm at his side. The sound of their voices makes for a really nicely familiar soundtrack - one that he’s missed, if he’s honest. He's only startled out of his fond reverie when Taylor asks, 

"So are you looking after my boy?" 

And Jordan responds without thinking, realizing his mistake a second too late. He blushes and shrugs, lets Ryan eye him strangely for a minute before he says, 

"Whatever, he said _boy_ , didn't he," and that at least reminds Taylor of their previous discussion. 

"Speaking of, Ryan, have you been bitten by any radioactive spiders lately?" 

"No, and I'm not going through second puberty, either. You were talking about me, weren’t you? Jerks." 

For once, Taylor lets the chirp go, because he's on the scent of something, now. 

"Seriously though, are you okay? Ebby here is worried about you." 

It's an incredibly awkward conversation to have when Taylor is in another country and they're sitting there next to one another while he makes observations on the state of things between them, but Ryan doesn't seem to mind all that much. He folds his legs up underneath himself and puts his hands in the pockets of his hoody, nudging Jordan with his shoulder but then leaning away from him. 

"I'm fine. All good. Totally fine. You know me. Never one to complain. Happy just to be playing. Even down here. Not that down here isn't great, because it is, and Ebs is here and ... it'd be great without him too, but it's cool to room together. Although when you move down I'll have to find somewhere else. That doesn't matter, I'm sure it'll be fine, maybe I should start looking -"  
Jordan yanks Ryan back down onto the bed before Taylor even has a chance to say "Ebs, don't let him leave," so it provides a soundtrack to their mini scuffle instead. Eventually Ryan stops struggling, and lets Jordan keep a hold of him with one hand banded around his wrist, just in case. 

“What. in the hell. was that,” Jordan asks, forgetting that Taylor’s still on the call because Ryan is flushed and tense, perched on the very edge of the bed like he’s waiting for the first opportunity he gets to bail. 

“I just … nothing. It’s nothing. You’re going to want to live together again once Taylor gets the okay to come down here, and that’s fine, I never thought it would go any other way, but you two keep acting like ….” Ryan looks away and bites at the corner of his mouth. He yanks his wrist out of Jordan’s hold but doesn’t try to leave again, sits with his hands folded up in his lap and looks pained and miserable instead. 

“Hey, like _what_ , Ryan? Are we doing something that makes you uncomfortable? Because if we are you just have to say, we’d never want you to feel weird. Not with us,” Taylor says, his voice soft even over the static-y speakers of the laptop. 

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Ryan assures him, shifting closer to Jordan so he’s sitting facing the laptop again. The movement soothes Jordan. Dealing with Ryan’s mood swings lately all by himself, not knowing how close he can or should get to Ryan without Taylor has been difficult and confusing. He wants to get as close as Ryan will let him, but he always feels like he’s waiting for Taylor to catch up with them, too. Having this conversation with the both of them is the best Jordan has felt in weeks, even if it’s over Skype and Ryan is half a second away from wolfing out or something. 

“So what’s the problem?” Jordan asks, nudging Ryan’s thigh with his knee and then leaving it there, maintaining the contact. 

Ryan looks down at his hands again and seems to have some kind of silent conversation with himself before he lifts his head again, scrubs a hand through his hair and attempts a less than convincing smile. 

“Nothing. No problem. It’s tough getting used to things down here, but we’re still playing hockey. We still have that, and Taylor’s gonna be back at it again soon, and then it’ll be just like it was in Edmonton. We’re here to do whatever we can until the lockout’s over, right? Let’s just get on with that. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.” 

He still sounds like he’s talking to the media instead of to his friends, but he refuses to say any more than that. They talk for another little while before Taylor has to head out to a lunch thing, but they mostly talk about their teammates - Jordan updating Taylor on Nahla’s well being for nearly twenty minutes before he’s satisfied, because Taylor loves Tubes’ dog more than he loves Tubes, probably. 

After they say goodbye Ryan sits awkwardly on the bed, staying put even though Jordan had been sure he’d bolt the second he could. On a whim Jordan leans in and pulls Ryan into his side, gives him a brief hug and a half-hearted noogie that makes Ryan laugh and swat his hands away, so that’s something at least. 

Later Ryan comes to find Jordan and asks if he wants to play Call of Duty, so they spend most of the day together and it’s quiet and stilted, but at least Ryan sticks around for a while. 

 

\----

 

Ryan seems to sleep better for all of two days, and that’s quickly followed up by three consecutive nights when Jordan wakes up at a truly ungodly hour to find him gone, presumably out working off his rage or whatever. 

It doesn’t work. 

Ryan nearly gets into a fight with Schultzy of all people during practice, and roughly shoves Jordan away when he tries to pull Ryan back out of Justin’s space. Justin doesn’t know Ryan nearly as well as Jordan or some of the others do, but it’s still distressing to see Justin eyeing Ryan so warily, subconsciously leaning back like he’s not totally confident Ryan isn’t about to hit him. 

Ryan skates away and steps off the ice, but Jordan and Justin are still standing there exchanging puzzled looks when he comes back a minute later, apologizing and embarrassed. 

Jordan doesn’t have a fucking clue what’s going on. 

 

\----

 

Mostly, he’s worried. 

It’s not like Ryan to get so caught up inside his own head like this. He’s not exactly the most talkative linemate Jordan has ever had, and he’s more complicated than anyone he’s ever known or worked with in any capacity, but he’s capable in ways that make this brand new upset raise all kinds of alarm bells for Jordan. 

He’s never known Ryan to have a problem that he couldn’t solve. They’ve played together for over a year now, and he’s never had to watch Ryan tackle a task that he didn’t already have the game plan figured out for, or quickly pick up the solution to. 

Ryan is relentless in his need to understand and merciless in his determination to succeed - he’s the most concisely, completely competent friend Jordan has ever had, and even when he needs help with something in the form of another perspective or more experienced advice, he recognizes that instantly and goes about getting it done.

Ryan doesn’t struggle. He adjusts, and then he does, and Jordan doesn’t have a clue what to do with this version of him that’s nothing _but_ struggle - a writhing, rattled grind. 

Jordan wants to understand and he wants to help. He and Taylor would do anything that Ryan asked of them, give him anything he needs.

But until he figures out what that is, Jordan can’t do anything but hold his breath and count the seconds, hope that the rumble is worse than the strike still to come. 

 

\----

 

Taylor, absentee concerned party that he currently is, somehow manages to make their first real advance. 

Jordan shuffles out into the living room one morning, still knuckling sleep from his eyes and trying to remember if he put pants on before he left his room when he spots Ryan splayed out on the couch, his phone held to his ear. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers, and Jordan takes a second to appreciate that view first thing in the morning before he remembers that it _is_ first thing in the morning. Since he hasn’t been sleeping at night, Ryan tends to grab a few hours sleep before practice, so Jordan definitely isn’t used to not being the first one awake. 

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop on Ryan’s conversation, but Ryan’s head is tipped back over the arm of the couch so he doesn’t see Jordan come in, and Jordan isn’t awake enough to make a noise or leave the room on sheer instinct. 

“-a while. I don’t know, Taylor, it’s a while! Five, six months? ….. Yeah well, we’re not all you, Hallsy. It’s not that big a deal. Or it wasn’t. Isn’t? I don’t know, you’re the one obsessed with my sex life, you tell me.” 

And that sounds to Jordan like Ryan is saying he hasn’t hooked up in six months, which on the one hand is believable, because it’s Ryan and he really honestly does focus completely on hockey. He even uses team nights out as actual bonding opportunities, and spends the time listening to his teammates’ problems like he’s going to be quizzed on them at morning skate. Jordan has seen him turn down offers of drinks from girls and guys, equally polite and charming in each case. But Jordan knows for a fact that Ryan had a thing with Landeskog during the draft, something that started out as just a couple nights but definitely escalated from there, and now Jordan is wondering whether that’s still a factor. Maybe Ryan and Landy are still hooking up. Maybe they’re not, and Ryan isn’t handling it well. Either way, Jordan feels like a shitty and really unobservant friend. He and Ryan have talked about this stuff, all three of them have had the sad and sorry relationship history bonding experience over hard liquor and the greasy kind of foods their trainer would crucify them for even looking at, but maybe Jordan didn’t ask enough questions, maybe Ryan needed them to push harder. 

Maybe he’s needed someone to talk to all this time and Jordan and Taylor were too preoccupied trying to figure out a way to get into his pants themselves, instead. 

Fuck. They’re such _jerks_. 

Jordan is about to cough or clear his throat, apologize for accidentally eavesdropping but not admit to hearing a single thing and then maybe take Ryan out to brunch and compliment his shirt and surreptitiously try to hold his hand on the way home or something, while he figures out how to tell Ryan it’s okay if he needs to like … cry on Jordan’s shoulder, or if they have to go slash some tires in Colorado or whatever, but then Ryan laughs and Jordan loses his train of thought again. 

“No, Taylor, I don’t really feel like having phone sex right now, you non. Oh my fucking … no, not because you’re not hot enough. You’re plenty hot. I just … hey aren’t you and Jordan like M-F-E-O or something? Shouldn’t you be offering to have phone sex with _him_ at 9am on a Tuesday morning instead of propositioning me? …........... Taylor, I swear to god. You know what the very worst thing about this conversation is? All of it. No! I’m not telling you what I’m wearing! ….. He would not! …...... I totally do, because he’s a better man than you’ll ever be …..... No I’m not sleeping with him instead! What in the hell is wrong with you? Did you have an accidental lobotomy? You can’t offer up your boyfriend like that! Jordan would kick your ass for what you just said …...... Okay, but he’d try, okay, and that’s what counts.” 

All scurrilous and unfounded commentary on Jordan’s fighting skills aside, Jordan is left wondering if he’s really hearing what he thinks he’s hearing and also why he bothered to put pants on at all today. It seems like Taylor and Ryan would rather he hadn’t, and Jordan is nothing if not obliging when it comes to the two of them, in combination or otherwise. 

Except confused, actually, so he takes one last look at the dip of Ryan’s abs as he laughs and the thick line of his throat as he swallows, and then he backs out of the living room as quietly as he came in and goes to make breakfast. 

It seems like he’s going to need his strength. And maybe more brainpower than he possesses to figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to take from all of this. 

 

\----

 

He’s still trying to decipher the tone of Ryan’s voice through the conversation he just overheard, wondering whether the way he’d so easily discussed the issue of banging them means that he’s thought about it and isn’t at all averse, or can joke about it because it will never happen, when Jordan’s phone chirps with a text alert while he’s waiting for his toast to pop, and he’s not surprised to find that there’s a text from Taylor waiting. His phone beeps again, twice more in quick succession, before he can even open up the first message. 

_I HAVE SOLVED A PROBLEM LIKE MARIA. BY WHICH I MEAN I KNOW WHAT’S UP WITH NUGE._

_EBBY HE NEEDS TO GET LAID. HE’S SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED. TRAGIC AND FANTASTIC. BEST NEWS EVER OR BEST NEWS EVEREVER!_

_(I already came onto him and he shot me down but I really think that was just because I did it via phone and not because he’s not into us, he said I was hot and everyone knows you’re hot, so I’m feeling good about this. Quick - go kiss him and tell me what happens._

Jordan is still rolling his eyes and shaking his head when Ryan comes into the kitchen. 

“Oh hey, I didn’t hear you wake up. ‘Morning,” Ryan says, smiling, and Jordan takes one look at him, still mostly naked, and feels his stomach clench with some kind of terrible hope. Maybe Ryan has thought about sleeping with them. Maybe that’s an idea that sits really well with Ryan. It’s an idea that’s already turning Jordan’s world upside down. 

“‘Morning,” he manages to say, returning Ryan’s smile absentmindedly while he focuses on replying to Taylor’s texts so he doesn’t do something stupid like anything Taylor tells him to do, instead. 

( _Not right now, you moron. Call you later, but I’m not kissing anyone until we talk about this._ ) 

Jordan makes enough food for both of them, as usual, and they talk about practice and the game tonight while they eat. It’s the most at ease Jordan has seen Ryan since they got to Oklahoma, and Jordan tries to enjoy that without ruining it by wondering whether Ryan is maybe only interested in Taylor, and what they’ll do if that turns out to be true. 

Grinning at him from across the counter and leaning in steal bites from Jordan’s plate, Ryan does a lot to make it easy not to worry about a single thing. 

Still, Taylor sends him sad-face emoticons every thirty minutes for the rest of the day, and Jordan kind of knows the feeling. 

He can’t figure out why Ryan doesn’t just go out and find someone to sleep with. He’s young, he’s smoking hot, and he’s a hockey superstar. That’s both an advantage and a drawback, sure, and maybe Ryan’s name and number don’t hold the kind of weight here that they might back in Edmonton, but there’s no good reason Jordan can see for his frustration to have reached the level that it’s clearly taken on. It doesn’t make any sense. 

It puts Jordan’s mind at ease, a little, to know that it’s not something more serious. But this is still a problem that Jordan doesn’t know how to fix, either. He wants to help, obviously. He wants to help Ryan by taking the tension from every single inch of his body with his hands and his mouth, his teeth and his touch. He wants the obvious outlet for Ryan’s frustration to be one that becomes something else entirely - a solution that breeds opportunity. 

But Ryan had talked about it with Taylor in such a removed way. Idle, disinterested observation that almost lead Jordan to believe that Ryan couldn’t see the root of his problems and the easy solution that was right in front of him. So it has to be more than that. There has to be much more to it.

It’s two steps forward and one step back, and that’s a speed Jordan is all too used to. 

 

\---- 

 

Jordan tries to find a way to bring it up. 

For the next couple of days, he puts his and Taylor’s vested interest in Ryan’s sex life aside, and focuses on the fact that he’s their friend and they’re worried about him. 

Things are easier between them back home in the apartment, and they both talk to Taylor so often that sometimes it’s honestly jarring to think of something to say to him and then remember that he isn’t really here - it just feels like he is. Ryan doesn’t shut himself up in his room so much anymore, and it’s been a few days now since he’s gone on a midnight gym run. He’s letting Jordan in without asking for anything, but that means he’s not actually explaining anything either. 

Ryan is calmer in practices, although that seems to be something of a constant effort. 

Nothing changes during games. 

 

\----

 

It’s like when he’s out there on the ice, Ryan can’t fight off the temptation to take the bait, and there’s definitely no shortage of that. 

They’d known that they’d be instant targets down in the AHL, but it’s getting kind of ridiculous and even Jordan is pissed off by it. It’s hard to focus on the game when the other team are trying their hardest to knock you out of it, and Jordan came down here to play hockey. He wants to play the game, maybe score a couple goals, and not have to help a bruised and bleeding Ryan limp off the ice. He really doesn’t think that’s too much to ask for. 

But unlike Jordan, Ryan isn’t satisfied to simply shove back when he can, when it’s not going to result in a dumb penalty that will send him to the box to watch his teammates fight to kill off a powerplay goal that he will have paved the way for. 

Jordan almost wishes he could say he’s surprised when Ryan finally has enough. 

 

\----

 

The Aeros are up by one at the beginning of the third period, when it happens, and Ryan has an assist but Jordan hasn’t managed to get onto the scoresheet. Neither he nor Ryan can so much as touch the puck without getting an elbow or a sneaky stick for their efforts, and Jordan fucking hates playing like this. Missing scoring chances or being out-played is one thing, but playing against guys who get ahead by simply smothering the game play is so frustrating that even Jordan is vibrating with it, his gloves squeaking with tension around his stick and his skate blades cutting screeched taps against the boards as he watches Ryan get half-tripped and pushed off pucks. They’re only lining up together on the power play tonight, and Jordan could really have done without forgoing the distraction that being on the ice with Ryan affords him. 

Jordan’s fixing his sock tape on the bench when a scuffle breaks out down behind the goal, and when he looks up he almost thinks that Ryan is going to stay out of it, at first. 

It seems to be Plante and Bagnell going at it, Bulmer and Byers shoving and pushing and Tubes muscling his way into the very center of it all as usual. Maggie and Ryan are standing back a little, shoulder to shoulder with Aeros players in case things get out of hand, but neither of them move forward until Ryan suddenly loses it, sharply elbowing the player on his right out of the way and throwing his stick to the ice, letting his gloves fall away with it. Tubes is on his knees on the ice now, for reasons that Jordan couldn’t see but Ryan must have, because in a flash he’s got Bagnell lifted up against the glass with one hand fisted in his jersey and pads, Ryan’s right hand delivering punches so hard and fast that after just a few seconds all Jordan can see is blood - he can’t even figure out if it’s coming from Ryan’s knuckles or Bagnell’s face because both are covered in it. 

When Bagnell gets his wits about him and starts to fight back, Jordan has to look away. He puts his head down and keeps his gaze locked on his own skates while both benches shout and cheer and slap their sticks against the boards. 

All Jordan can hear is his own heart pounding, his breaths so slow that when they come they make his chest heave. 

He doesn’t even know how much time passes before he’s being nudged up the bench after a line change, but when he looks out across the ice Ryan is nowhere to be seen and the guys on Jordan’s left and right are engaged in two completely different conversations that take the exact same excited, impressed tone. It’s not every day that the number one NHL draft pick - not to mention a fucking tiny forward - drops the gloves, lays a guy out and gets thrown out of the game in defense of one of his d-men. 

Jordan will be impressed later, he’s sure, but right now as he swings a leg over the boards all he can think about is not throwing up on the ice. 

 

\---- 

 

They lose the game, and the score is an afterthought. Jordan tries to keep it together and concentrate, but it’s like skating through fog out there when he doesn’t know what’s going on with Ryan - what the fuck happened and where he is now. 

Tubes scoots up next to Jordan immediately after it all goes down, holds his helmet in his hands and quietly retells the story of how Ryan Nugent-Hopkins, his defender and savior, came to his aid when a low down dirty Aero put the pressure of all his weight on Tubes’ ankle through the medium of his fucking skate blade. Jordan can nearly see the hearts in Tubes’ eyes, but he’s more concerned about the state of Ryan’s _everything_ right now. 

Coach tells him that Ryan is getting looked at by the medics, but that he’s not hurt beyond the superficial injuries that come from beating the shit out of a dude that’s three inches taller than you, fifty pounds heavier. From what Jordan has heard on the bench, it was the cleanest, meanest win any of them have seen in forever, and there’s a lot of talk about the power of pent-up rage and the force of vicious will. 

Hockey is both a violent sport and one that Jordan has grown up in and around his entire life, so he’s hardly horrified by what went down, but this has never been part of Ryan’s game. Everyone will stand up for a teammate when they need to, but this is the culmination of something that it seems like Ryan has been leading up to, chasing even, and they need to talk about that. 

Jordan doesn’t care about finding the right moment, anymore. 

This needs to be addressed now. 

 

\---- 

 

Ryan is already in the locker room by the time the rest of them trail back there, but Jordan just has enough time to catalogue all the ways Ryan’s hurt before he’s heading to the showers, drying off and pulling his clothes on as fast as he can, avoiding any and all conversation and media so he can get himself and Ryan the hell out of here as soon as possible. 

The knuckles of Ryan’s index and middle finger on his right hand are split, and the rest are red and sore. He’s got a bruise rising across his cheekbone and his lower lip is fat, swollen but not cut. He doesn’t look like he just got in his first fight, and Jordan is pretty grateful it isn’t worse, but Ryan is pale and frowning and Jordan knows that whatever has gotten under his skin lately hasn’t been worked out yet. Not nearly. 

By the time Jordan is ready to go, Ryan has stopped responding to well-intentioned chirps and congratulations on his fight and is sitting in his stall with his phone in his hand, thumbing the unlock bar back and forth but not doing much of anything else with it. Jordan doesn’t know what he’s waiting for - because Jordan doesn’t know _anything_ about what’s going on here - but the blank look on Ryan’s face means Jordan doesn’t feel so bad about going up to him and kicking the toes of his shoes until Ryan looks up at him, his eyes widening when they make eye contact like Jordan is the first person he’s seen since he stepped off the ice. Got dragged off it, if Tubes’ commentary on the aftermath of Ryan’s fight is to be believed. 

“Hey,” Jordan says, trying hard not to speak to Ryan like he’s talking to a spooked animal but not getting all that far with that if the way Ryan’s frown deepens is anything to go by, “you ready to go?” 

Ryan’s sigh is deep and long enough that Jordan feels better and worse just watching it. 

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” 

Jordan drove here, so Ryan was relying on him for a ride back, but Jordan doesn’t think either of them were expecting how relieved Ryan seems to be to be able to follow Jordan out of the building and down through the parking lot. He sticks so close by Jordan that their hands keep brushing, but neither of them make a move to put more space between them. They drop their gear bags into the trunk and when Ryan pauses there before walking around to the passenger side, Jordan doesn’t think twice about banding his hand around Ryan’s wrist, squeezing lightly and rubbing his thumb down over the heel of Ryan’s palm. 

Jordan is desperate to try and console Ryan, any way he can. 

And Ryan …

Ryan seems to be desperate, period. 

 

\----

 

They don’t speak on the drive back, and Jordan doesn’t say anything while he goes and grabs an ice pack from the freezer. He follows Ryan to the couch and sits next to him, doesn’t say a word before he leans in to press the ice pack to Ryan’s cheek. Jordan has a feeling it isn’t the shock of cold that makes Ryan flinch. 

“We’re talking about this now,” he decides, because someone has to. 

To his credit, Ryan doesn’t try to pretend he doesn’t know what Jordan’s talking about, but he doesn’t offer up any answers either. He sits and chews on his swollen lip and looks at Jordan’s left bicep like that’s where the answers are to be found. 

“Obviously this isn’t working, Ryan. Getting in fights and being mad all the time isn’t helping. If anything, it looks to be making it worse.” 

“I’m not _mad_ ,” Ryan protests, looking at Jordan like he’s got two heads, now, but at least he’s looking at him at all. He’s looking at Jordan like he’s lost, but determined to fight his way home, and he seems younger in that moment than Jordan has ever known him to be. He’s stubborn in a way that would be naïve except for how what might be ideology for most is nothing less than normality for Ryan. Jordan falls into such sudden, fierce fondness that he doesn’t think twice about shifting to sit facing Ryan, adjusting the ice pack with one hand and pushing Ryan’s bangs out of his face with the other. It feels nothing but natural to be completely focused on Ryan, to be looking at him and worrying about him and trying to figure out how it even makes sense that Jordan feels so much for him, touching him with both hands and giving him every bit of attention and every ounce of concern that Jordan has to give. 

“So what are you, then? Why … what’s going on, here?” 

Instead of replying, Ryan reaches for Jordan’s hands and pushes them away with a slow, gentle reluctance that makes Jordan’s heart ache. He holds Jordan’s hands in his lap, watching the way the ice pack brushes tiny shards of frozen condensation across his pants. 

“Can we … we should get changed. We’ll put our stuff away and get out of these suits and then we’ll talk, okay? I’ll - I’ll try to explain, I promise.” 

He’s still holding Jordan’s hands in his, and Jordan feels so utterly useless with his wrists bared and no idea how to make what he feels lead to any kind of meaningful change, but he nods and lets Ryan walk away. 

 

\----

 

As Jordan heads down the hallway to his room, he thinks about the fact that he’s the one here, dealing with all of this. 

He wonders if Taylor would do a better job. When Taylor and Ryan talk it seems so easy, light and fun in a way that’s there between Jordan and Ryan too, but definitely not as wholly representative of how they are with one another. Jordan and Ryan are … ‘solemn’ is maybe the word for it. Taylor calls them ‘earnest’, but it’s deeper than that, more than that for Jordan. For Ryan too, he’d wager. He doesn’t think he’s any less capable of being what Ryan needs, but he does find himself wondering if he’s not what Ryan needs right now. 

After he hangs up his suit and has pulled on some basketball shorts and a tshirt, Jordan finds himself considering the weight of his phone in his hand before he shoves it into his pocket. Even though Taylor isn’t here yet, he’s present in everything Ryan and Jordan do in a way that makes the decision to ask for his help seem so simple. He’ll call Taylor, Taylor will say a lot of incredibly inappropriate things and try to goad Jordan into actually doing some of them, but in amongst all that he’ll find the time to say something genuinely helpful, Jordan knows. 

Or he would have, if Jordan wasn’t directed to voicemail when the call connected, instead. 

He’s flying solo into this one. 

Or so Jordan thinks until he pauses outside Ryan’s bedroom door and hears the low murmur of his voice. Jordan can’t make out what he’s saying, but he’s using that half-exasperated, half-worshipful tone of voice that he can only manage the right balance of for Taylor, and Jordan grins, smiles hard for the first time in what feels like days. 

It’s not hard to walk away to wait for Ryan, then. Jordan goes to grab a drink and is working on an impromptu grocery list shown to be urgent by that trip to the fridge when Ryan comes in. He’s dressed in sweats and a tshirt and his feet are bare and he’s still obviously banged up from his escapades tonight, but he’s not as tense as he was ten minutes ago. Still pretty fucking tense, but when he folds his arms across his chest and takes a deep breath, sets his jaw against the conversation they’re about to have, Jordan isn’t convinced that his bones are about to grind hard enough to break. 

Worried, maybe, but it says a lot about how their stay in Oklahoma has gone so far that that’s an improvement. 

Ryan opens his mouth to speak first, and that’s a good sign. 

“Did Taylor … has he talked to you about what we talked about this week? He and I, I mean?” 

Sure, Taylor _thinks_ Ryan’s problem comes down to nothing more than sexual frustration, but the magnitude of the change to Ryan’s behavior lately and the fact that that would be a pretty easy fix makes Jordan think there has to be more to it. Taylor might think he knows, but probably he has no idea. 

“No. We’ve both been trying to figure out what’s going on with you, and he had some ideas, but he didn’t tell me anything you two had talked about. He wouldn’t. Unless it was important, or he had your permission.” 

Ryan thinks about that. He does that awfully distracting thing he does where he pushes his tongue into his cheek and licks at the inside of his mouth before he speaks. 

“I know that, but I thought maybe … maybe he’d see that … I don’t know. I don’t know what I was expecting. That’s what this is about. For probably the first time ever I have no idea if what I’m thinking is anything close to what’s actually happening and I can’t just ask or try to figure it out myself, because it’s not just about me, it’s not something I can figure out all by myself.” 

It’s obviously hard for Ryan to say, and he stops and starts and visibly second guesses himself and his choice of words the whole way through, but it’s this huge chunk of raw honesty, something that Jordan can use as a starting point, finally. 

“Okay. That sounds frustrating. Really frustrating. What’s been happening makes sense, now, for sure. But if it’s something that you can’t figure out by yourself, and it’s something you can’t ask for help with, then … what choice do you really have? Have you tried letting whatever it is go? Does it mean enough to you to make it okay to keep feeling like this?” 

Ryan turns away when Jordan asks that. He puts the palms of his hands flat on the counter he’d been leaning against and lets his head hang low between his shoulders. He speaks without looking at Jordan, now. 

“It’s not that easy. It’s not as simple as figuring it out or letting it go. I have to know before I just … give up, don’t I?” 

Jordan wants to ask what the hell Ryan is talking about. He doesn’t know how to help if Ryan doesn’t spell it out, but he knows that if Ryan was prepared to talk about it in terms anymore explicit than these, then he would be already. This is already a lot for Ryan, Jordan can see and hear and feel the effort it’s taking, and he’s not going to push him any further. That doesn’t mean it’s an easy conversation to have when he has zero specifics. 

“So you can’t figure it out, you can’t ask, but you can’t drop it either. That doesn’t really seem to leave you with a lot of options, Ryan. Maybe what it comes down to is that you have to do one of those things. If there are no other options … wait, how do you know there are no other options? No other way to figure it out that doesn’t involve thinking about it or talking about it or walking away? Can’t you like … _do_ something about it? Get proactive?” 

Ryan spins back around to face Jordan and stands staring at him with his mouth open in something like indignation, his forehead creased up in the beginnings of a frown. 

“Like what, Jordan? What am I supposed to do?” 

And now Jordan is the one getting frustrated. 

“I don’t know! How can I! You won’t even tell me what you’re talking about and I don’t know how to help if I don’t know what the problem is! I’m not trying to make you mad, I’m not trying to make this worse, I’m just saying maybe you need to stop thinking, stop worrying, stop letting your frustration get the fucking better of you and _do something_!” 

Ryan’s mouth snaps shut, and his face goes completely blank for a second, shocked wide open before it sets again, hard and sharp in resolve. 

“Fine,” he says, his voice low and rich, full of promise so sure it’s almost a threat, “how’s this for doing something?” 

He crosses the kitchen in two strides and backs Jordan in against the cabinet by moving into him and cupping one hand up under Jordan’s jaw, tilting Jordan’s chin up with his thumb so he can kiss Jordan squarely on the mouth. 

It’s stunning. 

And for the first time in weeks, it’s something that makes sense. 

Ryan doesn’t get the chance to try and pull away, because Jordan knows that’s exactly what he’s thinking before he even tries it. He uses the momentum of Ryan taking half a step backwards to get his hands between them, and then he knots his fingers in Ryan’s shirt and pulls him right back in. He kisses Ryan back, bites at his mouth and pushes his tongue to soothe the nip, and Ryan opens right up for it, welcomes it with a kind of fervour that makes Jordan’s blood burn. 

Things escalate so quickly that it’s all Jordan can do to try and hang on. 

They go from barbed, stilted conversation to this tension flaring hot and keen between them, and then Ryan shoves his hips down against Jordan’s and that tension makes something in both of them snap. 

Jordan can’t tell which of them moves first, but they’re spurned into motion, knocking into countertops and stumbling against furniture, banging their elbows off door jambs and tripping over their own feet because they can’t stop touching one another and won’t stop kissing. 

Ryan pushes Jordan up against the wall outside the living room and works a hand down into his shorts, pushes the collar of Jordan’s shirt aside with the tip of his nose so he can lick across the length of Jordan’s collarbone. Jordan crowds Ryan up against the table in the hallway and traps his hands down on top of it, knocks his legs wider apart until Ryan’s knees bracket Jordan’s hips and he pants against Ryan’s mouth at the feeling of them pressed so tightly together. They move into one another, Ryan’s hands grabbing at Jordan’s ass to pull him in and give him something to rut against and when he presses his face into Jordan’s throat and tries to say something that comes out as a sob, instead, Jordan gives up on getting to the bedroom. 

They make it as far as the wall right next to Ryan’s room, but no further, because that’s where Ryan decides to temper the restless, desperate hitch of his hips with words that match the movement perfectly. 

“Wanted this, want _you_ so bad I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t - fuck - couldn’t do anything right,” he says when he drags his mouth away from Jordan’s. Jordan has to turn away, give Ryan the tendon in his neck to address, because he needs to close his eyes and breathe, he can’t look at Ryan when he’s trying to think. 

That lasts all of two seconds before Jordan is clutching at the back of Ryan’s head, pushing his throat up into Ryan’s mouth and letting Ryan bend into it to lift Jordan’s knee up around his waist. 

“This is why? But you - shit, fuck, _Ryan_ \- you could have had this, you didn’t need to drive yourself crazy over it.” 

Ryan strips Jordan’s shirt up over his head and laughs against his chest when he ducks down to lick across Jordan’s nipple. 

“You drive me crazy. You and Taylor fucking Hall.” 

Ryan is so right and smart and shirts are so stupid and pointless that once Jordan figures out how to wrestle Ryan’s off he’s pretty sure he’s going to advocate none of them wearing clothes ever again. 

The newly re-defined shape of Ryan’s body, the feel of that under Jordan’s hands and against his tongue and between his thighs makes him feel so out of control that he thinks he understands what Ryan has been going through. He tries to say as much, but then Ryan pushes his own sweatpants down to his knees, tugs Jordan’s shorts down far enough to free his cock, and then he spits into his palm, takes them both in hand, and what Jordan ends up saying instead is, 

“You’re so fucking hot, your cock feels so good against mine, I can’t believe I get to touch you.” 

It’s not exactly the romance Jordan set out to show Ryan, but it’s true and it obviously does something for Ryan because when he drags his mouth across Jordan’s he whimpers and tightens his hand, kissing Jordan soundly and somehow managing to jerk them both off at the same time. There’s something so hotly dirty about it, nothing but Ryan’s spit to make the slide easy, his knuckles bruised and dragging roughly against the soft skin across Jordan’s pelvis. 

All Jordan can think about is what it’s going to be like to get Ryan out of all his clothes and take his time with him. To have Ryan spread out in his bed, naked and smiling and waiting for Jordan _and_ Taylor. He sucks on Ryan’s tongue and thinks about what it’ll be like the first time he gets to suck Ryan off. He slaps at Ryan’s thigh until he gets the hint and spreads his legs wider, and he’d only really thought as far as cupping Ryan’s balls, but Ryan’s breath hitches when his fingers brush up against Ryan’s perineum, and then Jordan has to circle his hole with a dry fingertip, push just inside to feel the hot clench of him. 

Ryan’s mouth drops open and he closes his eyes. He gasps and lets his forehead fall to Jordan’s shoulder and says

“Are you gonna fuck me before Taylor gets here, or should we save that for him?” 

He presses back against Jordan’s finger and his hand goes slack around them, leaving Jordan to push up into the loose grip of his fist until he can say “we should probably wait for Taylor, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” and then Ryan is swearing and leaning back in to catch Jordan’s mouth with his own again, tightening his grip and picking up the pace, barely getting a couple more strokes in before he’s coming between them, groaning so hard Jordan’s teeth and tongue hum with it. 

With Ryan’s come slicking the way, Jordan’s that much closer to following suit. His toes are curled against the carpet already and he’s arching up into Ryan’s body, straining for his hands. Ryan thumbs up around the head of Jordan’s cock and jacks him with a speed and strength that’s so precise and steady this couldn’t be happening with anyone but Ryan, but it’s not skilled technique that makes Jordan lose it. 

It’s when Ryan’s eyelids flutter open again, his eyes wide and shining with no trace of the tension that’s been held there for weeks now - it’s when Ryan smiles at him, pleased and _satisfied_. 

Then Jordan comes, hiding his face in against Ryan’s shoulder, both hands sliding up along Ryan’s back to hold him close. 

 

\----

A little while later, they’re both showered and curled up together in Ryan’s bed. They haven’t really talked, but only because they’re been too busy smiling and touching one another, now that they can. 

Ryan runs his fingers up and down over the slope of Jordan’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his bicep, doesn’t draw back before he speaks so his words end up muffled by Jordan’s skin. 

“Taylor is okay with this, right? You didn’t just let me say that stuff to get me off?” 

Jordan barely manages not to roll his eyes. 

“Taylor has been doggedly encouraging this, Ryan, he wants it as much as we do.” 

Ryan ‘hmms’ and then turns his face down into the pillows, peering up at Jordan with the one eye that remains visible. 

“So is this just … a thing that you two do? With other people? Even though you’re together?” 

His voice sounds small, not just dulled by sheets and skin. 

Jordan rolls up onto his side and then shifts down under the covers to lie tangled up with Ryan, face to face. 

“It’s something we wanted to do with you. It’s a thing that’s you-specific, Ryan. So you-specific, in fact, that it’s never happened with anyone who isn’t you.” 

Ryan grins and rolls over on top of Jordan, but before he can lean down to kiss him again, Ryan’s phone starts ringing and vibrating against the surface of the bedside table. Ryan’s grin gets wider when he glances at the screen, and he ducks down to kiss Jordan once he’s deposited the phone on the pillow next to them, on speakerphone, as the boom of Taylor’s voice reveals. 

“Ryan, I’ve been thinking about what we were talking about. You know - the sex thing and how you aren’t having any. And I know you think I was kidding before, but I want you to hear me out, I really think -” 

“Um, Taylor?” 

“Yeah? Wait. Jordan? Did I call you instead of Ryan?” 

“Not exactly. Ryan’s right here next to me. You’re on speakerphone. We’re … uh … we’re in bed?” 

“Okay. That’s … nice for you? But take me off speaker and pass the phone to Ryan. I love you and all, but there are some things a boy needs to talk to another boy about in absolute privacy, okay? But stay close to hand, I might need you if all goes to plan.” 

Ryan’s shoulders are shaking with laughter beneath Jordan’s palms, and the smile is clear in his voice when he interrupts. 

“Taylor, what Jordan is trying to say is that we’re in bed together. Naked.” 

The silence that follows that is nothing short of miraculous, because shocking Taylor Hall speechless is a feat Jordan thought no-one would ever accomplish. 

It’s one he vows to repeat as soon as possible, though, when Taylor eventually breaks said silence to yell “fuck yes!” and then quietly chant “Taylor’s in a three-way,” to himself over and over again until Jordan and Ryan get bored of trying to stop him and decide to just make out until he tires himself out. 

Tragically, by the time that happens, they’re so engrossed in one another that they’ve completely bypassed idle entertainment and are well on their way to round two. 

“............ are you making out? Oh my god, I can hear you making out. No _fair_ , I wanna see. Hey, get on skype! Share the love! …........... You know I’m not getting down there for four more days, this is not kind and considerate action on your parts! Hello!? You’re both the worst. …........... Ugh this sounds so hot, I hate you. …......... Wait I didn’t mean that, I love you! Let me watch you make out! Just for a minute! Please! …......... I said _please_! C’mon! ….............. Guys! Guys? Jordan? Ryan? …......... I’m hanging up, I have flights to change. Don’t wear yourselves out before I get there to do it for you. Fucking _yes_ , best plan ever.” 

 

\----  
\-----  
\------


	2. bare-knuckled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor is seeing the aftermath for the first time, and Jordan lies still and watches him learn what Ryan looks like bruised and breakable, cut up and hurt but here with them with his throat bared. Bare-knuckled. Bare.

Taylor arrives two days later, because time and schedule have nothing on the legendary impatience of Taylor Hall. 

He’s called them both approximately six thousand times in that time, and to their credit they have managed to answer about four of those calls. They’ve also left the apartment on two separate occasions; to attend a mandatory practice and to play a game. 

It’s been forty eight hours of momentous personal achievement for all three of them. 

 

____

 

Ryan is standing in the kitchen in nothing but his boxers, eating cold pizza and scrolling through something on his phone when Jordan’s buzzes in his pocket. 

Jordan’s phone is still in his pocket, untouched, when Ryan speaks without looking up at him ten minutes later. 

“Stop checking me out and read your messages,” Ryan suggests, because he’s a total buzzkill. 

“I can do both,” Jordan says, lifting his hips off the couch to pluck his phone from his back pocket without taking his eyes off of the inviting curve of Ryan’s spine where it dips down into his boxers, because he’s a skilled and accomplished multi-tasker and he always aims to impress Ryan. 

_just got into town_ the message reads, and Jordan is surprised until he remembers that he really has no reason to be. It’s Taylor they’re talking about. 

“Did he --”

“Yep,” Ryan answers, turning away and then bending over to put the pizza box back into the fridge. Jordan’s mouth goes dry. 

“Do you wanna --” 

“Way ahead of you,” Ryan says as he disappears back into the bedroom, because he’s right and he always is. 

 

____

 

They haven’t talked about much of anything at all because they’ve been busy, but it hasn’t seemed like there was anything _to_ talk about. Until now, maybe. 

Ryan crawls onto the bed and lies down with his head on Jordan’s stomach. Jordan pushes his fingers into Ryan’s hair and combs it out of place and then back again. Ryan reaches for his other hand and laces their fingers together. 

The silence feels heavy and Jordan doesn’t want to say anything that might add to the weight of it.

Ryan turns his head and fits his mouth to Jordan’s abdomen, his bottom lip finding a dip in the dimpled muscle of Jordan’s abs. 

They’re both waiting. 

But not for long. 

 

____

 

They haven’t moved much when Taylor arrives, but Jordan feels Ryan shift closer when the door opens. He tilts his body into him; around him.

And then Taylor appears in the doorway. 

He’s paler than they are, for once, and his hair is mussed on one side, faint lines on his cheek from whatever he used as a pillow on the plane. He looks exhausted. He looks amazing. 

“Hey,” he says, uncharacteristically soft; gentle. He moves into the room slowly and tentative, like he’s afraid he might be intruding. 

Jordan reaches for him and Ryan twists next to him, unfurls from the bracket of Jordan’s body. 

Taylor pulls his hoodie up over his head and off and gets on the bed on his knees next to Jordan, his hands finding Ryan like they’re drawn there. He catalogues Ryan’s bruises, his cuts and scrapes and the mottled marks of how he’s been feeling. He touches him slowly and carefully and thoroughly; reading himself in, catching up. 

It’s been a couple days, and Jordan hasn’t thought about Ryan’s fight other than to clean up after it by rubbing salve into his skin every day since. Taylor is seeing the aftermath for the first time, and Jordan lies still and watches him learn what Ryan looks like bruised and breakable, cut up and hurt but here with them with his throat bared. Bare-knuckled. Bare. 

Taylor takes Ryan’s right hand in his own and lifts it to his mouth. 

“Hey, killer,” he whispers, his lips to Ryan’s split knuckles. 

Ryan smiles, and Taylor smiles back. 

 

____  
____  
____

**Author's Note:**

> -it probably goes without saying, but realistically neither Jordan and Ryan would pass up the chance to play in the AHL / could bail on their contracts to stay back and practice in Edmonton with Taylor whether he was their boyfriend or the commissioner of the NHL.
> 
> -it's definitely a stretch to suggest that the force in Ryan's game is down to his being sexually frustrated, but ssshhhh just go with it.
> 
> -similarly, the addition of that force to Ryan's game is exaggerated here. He's never been a wallflower, but he is throwing the body and mouthing off down in Oklahoma enough that anyone who watched a significant amount of his games with the Oilers is surprised (and mostly delighted, as far as I can tell) by it. I stressed the scope of the difference for the sake of plot, but the difference is real.
> 
> -Ryan definitely has never gotten into a fight or near-fight with his teammates in practice, nor has he been in a real fight during a game since he's been playing in the NHL or AHL.
> 
> -as far as I know Ryan and Jordan both really do live in the same building as Maggie and Lander, but Ryan lives with Schultzy and didn't live with Jordan even before Taylor arrived, to the best of my knowledge.
> 
> -the Barons did play the Aeros on Friday, October 26th and every detail I included about that game is accurate barring Ryan's involvement in the fight. Neither he nor Maggie were on the ice for that.
> 
> -in reality Ryan and Jordan and Taylor and Justin all bike to and from practices and games in Oklahoma, but I mention them driving in this purely because I'm not equipped to deal with their bike gang at the best of times, let alone when that occurs between pretty serious scenes.


End file.
